


Aftermath of a Finale

by Anonymous



Category: Shoujo Kakumei Utena | Revolutionary Girl Utena
Genre: Blow Jobs, Character of Color, Community: porn battle (insanejournal), Episode Related, M/M, Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-14
Updated: 2008-06-14
Packaged: 2017-10-14 23:34:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/154692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Who was supposed to be your bride, Touga?</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath of a Finale

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt _Revolutionary Girl Utena, Touga/Saionji, rose bride_. Originally posted [to the porn battle](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/porn_battle/7377.html?thread=1058001#t1058001).
> 
> Contains: A slight battle for dominance and one character pinning another briefly. (No good tags for these)

"Touga."

"Hn."

"Is it over, for us?"

"No. We have to see it through to the very end."

"That's just like you."

Touga laughs, a sharp sound with no humor.

With what feels like Herculean effort, Saionji manages to roll over, away from the winking, mocking castle in all its empty glory. He pushes up on his elbows to drag himself across the scarred arena floor, inch by precious inch, until he can look down on Touga's hollow eyes.

"I want to break the shell," Saionji whispers, lips brushing his best friend's (worst enemy's?) cheekbone - a glancing blow, meant to startle. "Who was supposed to be your bride, Touga?" His breath stutters those eyelashes, curls around that ear. "Her?"

"Shut up," Touga croaks, and surges.

His lips aren't soft at all. They're fierce, all skill drowned by desperation. They take Saionji by storm, upside down and opening him with _force majeure_ , a hand cupped around the base of his skull to hold him in place.

He fights. He has to.

 _Relax_ says Touga's mouth, digging its way ever deeper. _Give in_ says his hand, working its way up (down?) Saionji's chest, stroking, cajoling. He wants to retaliate, but his arms are all that hold him up, keep him from falling down a deep well into something he can't quite see.

 _Now_ , says Touga's tongue. His hand skates down Saionji's belly to the button of his pants, flicks it open and dives inside.

Saionji freezes.

In slow motion he feels himself flipped, actually feels the moment when the match shifts away from him completely, when his sword goes flying across the room, except it's himself flying, spinning, coming down hard on his back to stare, dazed, at Touga's bare chest slithering down (up?) and away, ribs and belly and-

Saionji closes his eyes.

There are two hands in his pants now, working them down his hips from the inside, scraping across his skin to trap both thighs, bind them together. Now, pinned to the point of bruising, he wishes he didn't wear them so fashionably tight.

Touga isn't careful with him. Never has been. There's a pause, though, and Saionji feels warm, moist air shiver over his half-hard cock. For a moment he wonders if Touga will actually stop. Does he want that?

Then the shock of bright heat, deep and wet. Saionji shouts into the musk-scented fabric taut across Touga's hips. It aches, this sudden heat after the chill air, this light scrape of teeth on his sensitive shaft. He feels himself swell, heedless of his own desperation, the need to have won something here, to get _out_. The need for this to be the Touga he used to believe in, not the one who mistakes the first flutterings of envy and admiration for love.

_Who was supposed to be your bride?_

He groans. Touga's fingers dig into the crack of his ass, lifting him deeper into the sheath of that demanding mouth. His hands are pinned palm-up by a pair of white-clad knees, the fabric rough against his twitching fingers. His eyelids, fluttering unconsciously as the warmth spreads from his gut, open on a wild view that shifts between the shadowed bulge behind Touga's zipper and the fairy tale castle still spinning above.

The views flash faster, one over another, as Touga's hips snap forward mid-air. Bulge-sky, bulge-sky, bulge-sky, until they blur and Saionji can't tell one from the other. Is that Touga's cock, lit up like Christmas? Is that eternity above him, phallic and draped in a white veil? He can't tell, can't breath for the crushing lightness of it. Sparks infuse his whole body as he arches, no longer struggling, electricity blossoming from fingertips to crown to sole, wild, jagged leaps that cleanse his body, leaving only himself inside.

So this is what surrender feels like. He could maybe get used to it, if only he could breathe.

He comes down slowly, damp all over and perfectly empty, stripped of fury and fear. Someone is stroking his hair, tapping his cheek. He shifts without opening his eyes.

"Are you okay?" Touga asks. It's the first time he's asked that in years.

"Yeah," Saionji whispers. He doesn't need eyes to see Touga's face is framed by eternity twinkling down at them. Doesn't need words to say, _I would follow you to the ends of the world._

"Good," says Touga. "That's good." His hand curls against Saionji's chest.


End file.
